I feel like my joints are stiff. I haven’t forgotten about this lovely little blog, oh no. I just needed to take some time to try and stay existing. There are posts in the pipeline. But for now, dear reader, there is just a small story, from the Friday Fictioneers prompt.
A New Page
The dust drifted in the air, motes dancing on sunbeams, as I slowly pulled the curtains back. “Don’t go in there,” my grandmother told me. “Your grandfather is working.”
She had gone senile ten years before. He had died in 1954.
I took a deep breath, the musty smell of old books and older memories filling my mind, and ran my hand along the back of the chair. I had come into this forbidden room for a reason. It was time to settle accounts. To take stock.
And for the first time in over sixty years, someone sat at the desk.